


not often

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: It doesn’t happen often.





	not often

It doesn’t happen often. 

Stiles adores his father, has a close relationship with him that weathered the supernatural and Stiles coming out and even the announcement that he was dating a man almost as old as his father, and Peter  _ knows _ that he values it. 

Peter likes John, appreciates everything the older man is and does for his son, the way he loves Stiles with a protective ferocity that borders his own. 

So it doesn’t happen often. 

Stiles is shameless in taking his pleasure, has no inhibitions about his kinks and desires, and Peter loves him for it, loves discovering everything Stiles wants, delighted in giving him that, in making his boy sing with pleasure. Loves the flush his skin takes when he confesses a new fantasy, loves that each one is just a little bit more depraved than the next. 

But nothing--nothing compares to when he edges his boy like he is now, spreads him out and licks over him open, when he takes his time opening him up on his thick fingers, until Stiles is whimpering and fucking himself down on them, until he is leaking and so hard it aches and Stiles is desperate, trembling on the edge of an orgasm just to have Peter rip it away. 

When he sobs, and begs, his face a red mess of tears and wet bitten lips, begs to be fucked, begs to come, and Peter smiles, and leans over him, murmurs, “Ask nicely, baby.” 

It doesn’t happen often. 

But if he’s lucky and he plays Stiles’ just right, just like now, gets his boy desperate enough--then Stiles will thrash and writhe and stare up at him, the way he is now, his lips open and panting, his eyes glazed, and unseeing, he hears Stiles’ sweet whine, and then, whispered so softly he could almost miss it--

“Please. Please, Daddy--I--I need-- _ Daddy, please!”  _

It makes him break, every time. 

Making  _ Stiles _ break, breaks Peter’s control. He pushes up, thrusts into Stiles, relishing the desperate wail Stiles makes, jerking him up by his hair, pinning his boy to his chest and catching his hands so Stiles can’t stroke himself off, holding him still so all he can do is  _ take  _ it. 

“This, baby? Is this what you want?” 

He fucks him slow and hard, until Stiles is sobbing, pushing back into him, “I need to come, please, Daddy, let me come-- _ please. _ ”

It’s always that last please, strung out and broken, all want and breathless need, that makes Peter croon, “Of course, baby boy. Come for me now. Come for Daddy.”

Stiles shivers and shakes as he comes, breathless gasps the only noise he makes, the only time he’s ever anywhere close to silent. It’s only when he’s spent, sagging in Peter’s arms, come drunk and hazy that he slurs out, “Want it, Daddy. Want you to knot me. Please, please, gimme your knot.” 

It goes two ways. If Peter can play Stiles like a carefully plucked instrument, if a few well chosen words and carefully timed thrusts can cause Stiles to forget his inhibitions and come calling him Daddy--

Stiles can do the same, and when Stiles begs so pretty, he’s helpless to answer, buries himself in Stiles, as his knot swells, buries his teeth in Stiles’ shoulder and groans as he comes, listening to his boy crooning, “Yes, Daddy,  _ yes _ , gimme.” 

He purrs, when Peter collapses on him, tied to him, and Stiles tilts his head, searching for a messy kiss that Peter is only too happy to give. 

“Better, baby boy?” Peter asks, teasing, as he gives a tiny thrust, rubbing his knot against Stiles prostate. Stiles wiggles and retaliates by tightening around Peter, earning a hiss. 

“Shh, Daddy,” Stiles mumbles, kissing the closest bit of skin as he burrows into his pillow. “Sleep now.” 

Peter smiles, presses a kiss to the nape of his boy’s neck and drifts off to sleep. 

It doesn’t happen often. But gods he loves when it does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://areiton.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
